


to whom it may concern

by ladyknope



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknope/pseuds/ladyknope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flu Season 2 AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	to whom it may concern

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from a a Civil Wars song of the same name, which I listened to a lot while I wrote this.

9 p.m. on a Friday

No one tells you what to do after.

It’s what Ben thinks about as he lies next to Leslie in their bed that night. It’s only 9 p.m. and she’s been asleep for 30 minutes, but he couldn’t be more thankful. He wasn’t sure how this would go, knowing that it couldn’t be business as usual and unaware of what this temporary normal would be.

Because that’s the thing about days like these- your life becomes a before and an after without your consent. And whatever else happens, Ben knows not knowing is going to be part of their new normal, now more than ever.

/

3 days and 9 hours earlier

It’s after Tom calls him a grandpa for the third time, but before they actually leave for the winery when his phone rings. He’s hesitant to even answer when he doesn’t recognize the number, but it’s an instant excuse to get away from Craig and Tom bickering. Two minutes later and he barely remembers what was said besides the words “car accident” and “your wife” which can’t seem to stop ringing in his ears.

Ten seconds after he hangs up Ben finds his legs carrying him automatically towards the city hall exit. In the ten minutes it takes to drive to the hospital, a million worst-case scenarios run through his head, only interrupted by his own mind berating him for having these thoughts before he even sees her. It’s an endless loop of they said it was only minor injuries and why is she still in the hospital then? until he’s finally being led to a room where he has to sit and wait for his wife to get out of emergency surgery- and then those are the only words on his mind.

Emergency surgery. 

It’s some time later (two hours and 39 minutes, Ben counted every one while staring at the waiting room clock) and he’s being led to a room by a nurse who keeps talking to him like they’re discussing the advantages of early tax filing and not like she’s saying ‘she’ll be groggy, but she’s awake’ to describe his wife after she had fucking emergency surgery.

From the moment he sees her, pale and slightly sweating but somehow still so adorable in her hospital gown, he’s in a surreal state.

She calls out his name, half drugged on anesthesia still. He holds her hand and tames her hair around the shell of her ear and sits in another uncomfortable chair next to her bed. Sometime later the doctor comes in (he has no idea how many minutes pass this time). With gentle prodding she’s fully awake and also with the most fear in her eyes Ben has ever seen. He squeezes her hand tighter.

The doctor’s words wash over him, ectopic pregnancy and probably crashed from the pain and six weeks rest and recovery, and he just stares and stares at her as his state of being becomes even more unreal. Tears are running down her face as the doctor leaves and when he wipes one cheek with his thumb she startles like she forgot he was there, like she didn’t realize the hand she was holding like a vice was his. And then she’s saying it over and over again, pouring the same words into his chest as he holds her tight and tries to keep them held together: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

His head dips low so he can press his words into the soft skin between her neck and her shoulder- it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay- until she falls asleep again.

/

They spend three days in the hospital and his surreal state marches on through it. Leslie at least seems buoyed by their friends, who come to visit every day, and the strength of his hand that won’t let go of hers.

“I’ll drive you everywhere from now on, Boss,” Andy says on the second day. “Don’t even worry about fixing your car. Anywhere you need to go, I’m on it. New name: Kurt Macklin: personal driver and karate master (when needed).”

April doesn’t say much, but she does complain about how the nurses wouldn’t let them see her at first, and how they’re “even worse than Ann somehow”, but she does so while holding Leslie’s hand and it’s the first time Leslie’s smiled that day.

On the fourth day, Donna brings Leslie an assortment of gossip magazines, at least one of which she promises has a story about Jennifer Aniston because hospital magazines are “ancient as hell”. She also brings Ron, who pats Leslie on the shoulder with little hesitation and assures her not to worry about work, that he’ll cover for her. Donna assures her that she actually will cover for her.

Ann wants to come down immediately, but stays in Michigan at Leslie’s insistence. She has a newborn baby and they’ll be back home by the time she can arrange to come down anyway. Ben can tell Ann resists by the amount of persuading Leslie has to do, and he’s glad for it, even if Ann eventually gives in because one day post-surgery Leslie is still more convincing than almost anyone he’s met.

Ben sleeps in a cot next to her bed and furthers his suspension of reality. They don’t talk- not about what happened or what could’ve been, and since he feels like his life is not his own it doesn’t feel wrong to let it go for now. Leslie sleeps a lot, more than she ever has since he’s known her. Ben spends a lot of that time tethering himself to the feel of her warm skin, tracing the lines of her palm hoping they’ll curve into something from within that will let him know what she needs.

/  
10 p.m. on a Friday 

It’s not until Leslie is asleep in their bed and Ben is lying awake next to her that he finally feels it. His mind is fully awake and he’s suddenly and acutely aware of how unprepared he is for this.

/  
9 a.m. on a Saturday

“Hey.”

Ben closes his laptop at the sound of her voice.

“Hey. How are you? Do you need any medicine?”

“No, not right now. I don’t want to sleep anymore, it’s already been… god, 12 hours?”

He turns on his side so his face is closer to hers, where she lies on the pillow. He brings his hand up to link with hers, resting them between their bodies.

“It’s okay to sleep if you need to, you know. If you’re in pain, you shouldn’t-”

“I know, but it’s not that bad. I promise. You know what would make it better though?”

“Waffles in bed?”

She nods.

So they eat waffles. Leslie eventually takes a pain pill, after the fourth time he sees her wincing just from sitting up and after the seventh time he asks her if she needs one. They spend the weekend that way, Ben bringing her whatever she wants while they marathon episodes of shows they have piling up in their DVR.

/

Ben decides this next phase, the after phase, is more of a limbo than anything else. They’re teetering with the possibilities of landing safely on the expanse of normal or falling over the edge into a pit of emotion he can barely name, but fears for its depth.

They don't talk. And if Leslie was really okay, wouldn’t she be begging to work right now? She cried in his arms for an hour that first night in the hospital, but has since been even keel and eerily calm. 

They do talk about the logistics. Ben can take off a week to stay home with her while she recovers and then delegates some of the checking-in duties to Andy and April. She’s supposed to be resting the whole six weeks she’s at home, but as soon as Andy starts coming over every day he brings along with him whatever he can manage to find from the office. Ben is not surprised or even a little mad; in fact he’s more surprised she lasted the whole first week without working at all. He has an appointment to get her car fixed next week, the damage is substantial, but not total, and it should be fixed by the time she can drive again.

They talk about logistics and Ben wants to know everything else she’s thinking, without having to actually ask her. There’s something about the quiet way she'd carried herself these past weeks that makes him want shield her from any more pain, even if it’s from her own mind. So he doesn’t ask questions and she doesn’t offer information and they’ll live in limbo until one or the other of them decides to fall over the edge.

/  
5 weeks later

She doesn’t make it to six weeks, but by the time the fifth week rolls around she’s strong and confident enough that Ben believes she’s fine, that she believes she’s fine. Leslie goes back to work on a Monday and some selfish, scared part of him is glad they’ve seemed to make it through the weird and the hard of it and landed on solid ground. At least he’s 98% sure that’s where they’ve landed.

The questions linger in his mind. She’s not 100% herself, but her smiles and her laughter and her holding his hand as they carpool to work are enough to make those questions fade. She has a scar on her stomach and he thinks there might be one on her heart, but at least she’s no longer broken and bleeding.

/  
2 p.m. on a Wednesday 5 weeks later

“Hey babe, do you have a copy of that requisition form from yesterday?”

“I don’t know babe, why don’t you look for it yourself?”

Ben looks up from his binder to find April instead of Leslie sitting at the deputy director desk.

“Where’s Leslie?”

“She quit. And moved to Michigan to be with her true love, Ann. Also, she wanted me to tell you she's divorcing you.”

“Ha ha, April. Where is she really? I needed that form an hour ago and she never answered my texts.”

“I don’t know. Her mom called me and told me to take messages for her and sent Andy to find you a while ago.”

“Okay, well he didn’t. What’s going on? Is Leslie okay? Why didn’t she just call me? You know, she never-”

The phone rings and April answers it with an affected accent, swiveling in Leslie’s chair away from him. He knocks lightly on the door to Marlene’s office and enters when he hears her soft ‘come in’.

He stops short, expecting Marlene to be at her desk. She’s seated on the far end of the couch, Leslie lying across it with her head in Marlene’s lap, asleep.

“What…” he whispers, stops himself short once he takes a few steps closers. He notices Marlene’s thumb stroking Leslie’s shoulder, the tear tracks on his wife’s face.

“She’s okay. She had … sort of a panic attack earlier, but she’s alright now.”

Ben sighs and kneels down so he can look at her more closely. He doesn’t know what his mother-in-law’s definition of okay is, but panicking enough to fall asleep at work is not in his 'Leslie Knope' definition of okay. He feels anger rise inside him, but it’s only temporarily misplaced on Marlene until he realizes he’s only angry at himself. Angry at himself for not realizing that Leslie doesn’t need to be taken care of 98% of the time, but that this time is that 2%. The 2% is rare, but it’s real and he couldn’t even get over his own failures long enough to-

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Her tired eyes scan his face for a minute before she says in a raspy voice, “why are you angry-breathing right now?”

“I’m not-”

She reaches out to touch his lip. “Your mouth is angry-tensed.” 

He consciously relaxes his face, and his breathing, into what he hopes is a neutral expression. The pause in their conversation gives him time to notice that they’re having this conversation while Leslie’s cheek is still resting on Marlene’s thigh. So they aren’t past the hard or the weird of it yet.

“You wanna go home?”

He reaches out his hand to help her up and she accepts.

/  
When they get home, they change into more comfortable clothes and share the last piece of lemon pie (Leslie’s half is mostly whipped cream). They barely talk, but Ben doesn’t feel the same anxiety he has been these past weeks because he knows they’re gearing up to something bigger.

It’s when they sit together on the couch, angled toward each other with only the tips of their knees touching, that Ben finally says, “What happened?”

“Today or…?”

“Can we start with today?”

She looks into his eyes for a few seconds, then back at her hands. “I don’t really know. I was just talking to my mom about the summer catalogue and then, I just… couldn’t breathe.”

He tentatively brushes his thumb against her knee and she hooks her pointer finger around his. She keeps talking about how she felt sick and how hard her heart was beating, then everything finally stopped, but then she couldn’t stop crying. Ben feels like his throat is closing up the more she explains, but at least she’s slipped all her fingers through his.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve asked how you were feeling sooner. I didn’t want to make you feel worse, but I should’ve taken better care of you, I should’ve-”

“Stop. Ben, I’m serious. It’s not your fault. Even if you did try to talk to me earlier, this probably just would’ve happened sooner. I haven’t been feeling … great lately.”

She looks up at him then, a single tear running down her cheek and he feels his eyes water.

He threads his fingers around her neck, feels the silk of her hair on his skin and tugs her until her face is pressed into the collar of his shirt, her arms wrapped around his waist. 

They both cry. 

She doesn’t tell him more, but it’s enough for now.

Later, she’ll tell him how she didn’t know she could miss something she never knew she had. That she didn’t feel like she had a right to even be sad about something she didn’t even know existed, but did and she still does and she thinks she always will. They share a pillow and he tells her he never knew real fear until he sat in hospital waiting room, waiting for her. He didn’t know real fear until he watched her the next six weeks and didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if he could ever say something real to her again.

They share a pillow as her tears fall again and they hold hands between them while they fall asleep.

/  
6 months later

“God, you’re so needy.”

Ben nods his head in exaggerated movements and opens his arms in invitation from where he lies on their bed. Leslie smiles down it him from where she stands and climbs in. Once she’s under the covers, she throws her leg over his hip, arms between his body and the bed, head under his chin. She’s basically being his human blanket and he holds her there. Maybe he really is needy.

Their hands caress and linger, but they’re still slow and careful. Until Leslie in her impatience rolls them so they’re facing each other on their sides and kisses his lips, quick and full.

He pulls back, rubs his thumb over the apple of her cheek.

“I know I already ask you this a lot, but… you’re sure you’re ready for this, right?”

“I have done it before. Many times. A lot of those times were with you, actually.”

He smacks her ass lightly and she cackles.

“You know what I mean. I mean the doing it without the… to- you know…” his hands twist in way he’s sure makes no sense, but luckily Leslie saves him from his stuttering.

“To make a baby?”

He drops his hand on her waist and nods.

She stares at his ear, rubs her palm over his biceps.

“I’m scared. But it’s good I think.” Her breath hitches and she looks him in the eye before she says, “I’m scared of how much I want this.”

“Me too.”

They smile at each other until it’s too much. He leans back in and kisses and kisses her to make sure that all she can think about is his lips and his hands and at least a tenth of the love he feels pouring out of her.

//


End file.
